Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I am not averse to the occasional
adult beverage. My tastes are wide and varied, from Guinness to Bud Light,
from good Champagne to cheap Tequila. I have even (ashamed though I am to
admit it) enjoyed a glass of Beringer White Zinfandel. Yes, that’s right, I did
say Enjoyed. But, in recent years I appear to have developed a taste for some
of the finer things in life, good food, good wine and six foot Blondes in
particular. It was said blonde who introduced me to Shane, our host for the
first wine tasting of the Secret Wine Society, an occasion I will not forget any
time soon.
Now, believe me, I have tasted some very good wines and I know when I’m
drinking the good stuff. I can even pick out something decent from the
average wine list, but I am not, and never have been, one of those people who
smells Oak or Lemons or fresh cut grass in a glass of wine. When I stick my
big ol’ nose into a glass of the red stuff I smell WINE. Nothing else. So,
pleased though I was to be invited to Shane’s first meeting of the inner circle
(I’ve never been in a secret society before. It’s very exciting!!), I didn’t know
how much I would have to offer. Here’s my impression of the evening.
Firstly, the group, all wonderful people, three wine snobs, two trainee wine
snobs, me and Shane’s Mom. Shane’s Mom is worth a separate mention. She
doesn’t fall into the wine snob category. Far from it. I suspect she may be a
closet White Zinfandel drinker, but boy is she fun. Now back to the wine
snobs. I don’t mean that as an insult, but you know the type. They talk
knowledgeably about Long Legs, Great Body and Delicate Nose until I’m
convinced I’m at the wrong party (“Oh, I’m sorry, this must be the plastic
surgeons convention. I think I should be next door, getting drunk”). They say
things like “Grapefruit with a hint of Peach and Oak” and they all nod in
agreement. Which is all very well, but I must be missing something. Maybe it
comes with practice. Maybe I need to drink more wine (I do like to set myself
a challenge occasionally).
The trainee snobs are even easier to spot. They are the ones who say “Can I
smell Peach in this one” and then grin and cheer if they receive approval. (Yes
Jen, you did say, “WooHoo, I got one right”). But knowing the terminology, I
have discovered, is not essential. We tasted ten wines in total, all Pinot Grigio’
s, and I found that we all ranked them pretty consistently. Which just goes to
show that even a complete amateur like me can have some idea of what’s
good and what’s not.
Ranking the colour (yes, that’s colour, not color. Did I mention I’m English?
What you people have done to my language makes my blood boil…….) Oops,
sorry. I get excited sometimes. Where was I? Colour. It’s easy. You really
can’t go far wrong rating the colour of a white wine. Is it cloudy? No? Good,
let’s move on to Smell. There I go again showing my ignorance. You see,
apparently wines do not smell. They have a Bouquet, an Aroma, even a Nose.
I had a dog with no nose once. “How did it smell?” I hear you ask. Awful. (Ah
yes, the old ones are the best).
Being the caveman that I am, wines fall into two categories. Smells Good /
Smells Bad. That’s it. But our illustrious leader wanted us to be more specific.
He even gave out an Aroma Wheel. Not qualifying for even the trainee wine
snob position, the Aroma Wheel was a new one on me, but I have to say it
helped. It is a chart showing the main categories of smell (Damn, I mean
Aroma. Must get that right). Each category is broken down into individual
Aromas. So, a wine could be Fruity or Earthy, maybe even Chemical or
Microbiological (pray you don’t get too many of those). Fruity could include
Citrus, like Lemon or Grapefruit, or tropical, like Melon or Banana. At last
some assistance in finding the right words. Closer inspection of the wine wheel
revealed some aromas I hope never to find. Cabbage doesn’t sound too good,
but that’s a lot better than Wet Dog, Kerosene, or even Sulfur Dioxide. I can
only assume that they are on the Aroma Wheel because they do occasionally
appear.
But finally, having swirled it, sniffed it and admired its long legs (A favorite
pastime of mine), we finally get to taste it. This was a blind tasting, so we had
no idea what each wine was. There were no preconceptions. There was no
cheating (“Ah, this is mine, I must give it a good score!!”). We did, on the
whole, agree on what tasted good and what did not. We ranked each of the ten
wines. Some were a resounding success (My Tiefenbrunner came second……
Yippee). Some did not do so well (Ah, Brad, such a pretty label on your wine.
Pity it tasted like wet dog, or was it Kerosene, I forget now).
Tasting, I now know, is not a simple matter of washing the stuff over the
tonsils and asking for another glass. Shane manages to sound like he’s trying
to get those last few drops of coke out of a cup through a straw. This, he
assures me, is not considered bad manners at a wine tasting. Believe me, if I
tried that at my mother’s house I’d have a sore ear for days. Spitting is also
acceptable, but only if you spit it into a cup. Such a waste. I don’t spend good
money on alcohol just to sniff it, swill it around my mouth and then spit it out. I
want a good Buzz.
But all good things must come to an end. By the time we finished the tasting I
think we had all had a great time. It was fun. I recommend it to anyone. There’
s alcohol involved.
All in all, I did learn quite a lot. I learned that wine, unlike beer, has a huge
range of hidden layers. Interesting aromas, subtle tastes. It doesn’t JUST get
you drunk. I learned that wine snobs are actually quite fun to be around and I
hope one day to be one of them, but first I need to elevate myself to the heady
heights of Trainee wine snob. I learned that no matter where I go, my six-foot
blonde will find someone to talk to about Jewelry (OK, so I knew that already,
but she proved it once more). I learned that, despite having a taste for good
red wine (Karly Vineyards, 2000 “Sadie Upton” Zinfandel. Am I allowed to
advertise?) I can actually enjoy a good Pinot Grigio.
But most of all, I learned that next time I throw a party, I have to invite
Shane’s Mom.
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